Brighten my darkest day
by nalaa
Summary: [It is weird, in a way, that it has taken the death of his father to be able to say out loud what he has known for months.] Set post 2.05.


**A/N: **I've been working on this for a while and, finally, it's ready to post! A big thank you to Hannah (not-all-the-prayers) for her help and a standing ovation, my first-born and my eternal gratitude to Clare (ThirdGenerationRockette/theultimateclare) for reading this over and correcting all my mistakes.

This is something different from what I usually write and I'm a bit nervous about the outcome. I hope you like and enjoy it!

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><p>The first thing he felt was numbness, as if something, or someone, had swept the floor from under his feet and he was floating in the air, ready for reality to make him crash down. The second thing he felt was anger: anger at his father for everything he had done, anger at himself for waiting to make the call, anger at the universe for fucking with him once again. Then, a deep sadness overpowered everything else. He hadn't quite believed it until he had spoken the words out loud to Mackenzie. <em>My father died ten minutes ago<em>. The look on her face had been one that would accompany him for a long time, he had seen all her feelings for him reflected in her hazel eyes but, at that time, he had consciously decided to ignore it fearing that he would crumble while sitting at the anchor desk.

Once the broadcast was over and the lights had gone out, he found himself sitting there, lost, without knowing what to do. He wasn't sure how much time had gone by when the studio door opened and Mac walked in, ready to go, with his coat and briefcase in one hand and her own purse in the other. Without saying a word, she helped him put his coat on and escorted him out of the building.

Sitting on the stairs of the old porch in his parents' house, smoking a cigarette, he realizes that the bullpen had been empty when they walked out. He makes a mental note to thank his staff (and Mackenzie) for that.

The funeral is scheduled to start in three hours and he still isn't sure if he wants to go.

Being the oldest brother, and as he did with his Mom, he feels that he should be the one to take care of everything, it's his responsibility. Both his sisters and his brother offered their help but he gently refused it. Besides the planning, he has been receiving a lot of condolence calls and emails and he has answered every one of them. Mackenzie hasn't called and he's grateful for that. Talking to her, even if it was over the phone, would have made his façade fall to the ground and it was something he has been strongly trying to avoid. He needs to be strong, he needs to make everyone proud. She has sent him silly messages and emails, things that have put a little smile on his face. It's her way of telling him she will be there whenever he needs and it has been enough for him to carry on.

He stubs his cigarette on the wooden step and reaches into his pocket for another one. He takes a sip from the glass of Coke next to him and takes out his lighter. The smoke coming out of his nose is a well-known but weird feeling that calms him down. He hasn't drunk a drop of alcohol since he heard the news because he knows that, once he starts, he won't be able to stop until the pain and hurt he feels deep inside is numbed and forgotten for the time being (or until the alcohol clears out of his system and memories about his father return to the front of his mind).

Mackenzie made sure he got home in one piece; her hand stayed on his back the whole ride to his building and up his apartment. When the elevator doors opened on his floor, she gently encouraged him to step out. She helped him out of his coat and hung it up while pointing to his bedroom, telling him without words to go ahead and change into comfortable clothes. He emerged twenty minutes later, having decided that he needed a shower to try and make him feel half human again. He saw her coat carefully placed on the back of a chair, her purse on the coffee table, her shoes next to the couch. He followed the noise he was hearing and found her in his kitchen. He stopped by the door, leaning against it, observing her move around the room as if she owned it, the same way she did around the newsroom: focused, efficient, in charge. He hadn't seen her without heels in a while and he smiled when he remembered that she was a few inches shorter than him, remembering how she used to tease him about being freakishly tall when, barefoot, she had to step on her tiptoes to kiss him. She turned around, plate in hand, and saw him looking at her with an odd expression on his face. Then, she smiled at him, that particular smile of hers that made her face light up and her eyes crinkle a little bit. She left the plate on the table and slightly moved the chair, inviting him to sit down. While he took the necessary steps, she grabbed a glass from the cupboard and a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge and set both things in front of him. With a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, she began to move away, thinking that he wanted to be left alone, but he quickly grabbed her hand to stop her. "I'm not very hungry." He said, the first words that had left his mouth since he had finished the broadcast. "I won't be able to finish it. Share with me?" Mackenzie looked down at him and nodded, knowing it was his way of saying _please, stay here, with me_.

Looking absent-mindedly at the glass of Coke in his hand, he thinks about that shared dinner and the words left unsaid, how her presence had been enough for him and the comfortable feeling of being with someone in complete silence without everything being awkward. He's only able to do things like this with Mackenzie and it's a big step for him to even admit that. Call it a physical law of the universe, or whatever you want, but it seems that she's always able to tell when he's thinking about her because his phone vibrates in his pocket at this precise moment. He doesn't need to check it out to know it's her. The picture of a cute but sad-looking puppy with a big question mark over his head makes him snort. He knows it's her way of asking him if he's alright without actually writing the words. For a few seconds, he thinks about replying to her message with another silly picture but he quickly changed his mind and dials her number instead.

He used to talk to Mackenzie all the time. The late night calls had begun before they had started dating, when they only had been coworkers and friends. They had stopped while they had been together, they used to share a bed every night so no phone was needed to talk to her. During her years embedded, he had tried to forget what her voice sounded like. Once she had waltzed right back into his life, the urge to pick up his phone and call her late at night had come back as quickly as his feelings for her. He will never admit it out loud but the smooth sweet sound of her voice is what helps him fall asleep most nights.

His brother is the one who comes and gets him when it's time to get ready. He's been back home for the past two days and he's most than ready to leave again. He won't lie to himself; despite the circumstances, it's been great to spend time with his nephews and nieces and he's finally ready to admit that he's missed his siblings more than he realized, but the situation has deeply affected him and the only think he wants is to go back to New York and forget about everything for a few days. He knows he won't be able to forget as quickly as he wants but the thought of it if what makes him decide to get up and get ready for his father's funeral. The man sure doesn't deserve it; he doesn't deserve the loving and sentimental goodbye his sons and daughters, grandsons and granddaughters, and the rest of his family has put together for him. He doesn't deserve a church full of people praising his life, he doesn't deserve his oldest son's forgiveness's. Will won't give him that pleasure; even if he's dead, Will won't be able to forgive his father anytime soon. John McAvoy had hurt him, both physically and psychologically, scars that he still wears with him every day of his life. John McAvoy doesn't deserve his son attending his funeral but Will, thanks to some external help, knows that he's better than his father, he knows he's different from him, so he'll swallow his thoughts, he'll take a deep breath, square his shoulders and, for the sake of his family, he'll be there.

Mackenzie, after he fell asleep on his couch with his head resting on her legs, carefully took her iPad out of her purse and began looking for flights from New York to Lincoln, Nebraska. There weren't any direct flights so, after pondering all the available options, she decided to buy him a seat in the only direct flight from Newark to Omaha and rent a car for him; the drive would get him time to clear his head before having to face his family. She knew his credit card number by heart and she was glad she could do something for him, it helped her lessen the feeling of utter uselessness that had settled on her heart since he had told her the news. The last step was to book him a room at the only hotel in his hometown; knowing him, he wouldn't want to stay at his parents' house any second longer than what would be strictly necessary.

He looks at himself in the mirror and has a hard time recognizing the man he sees. His hands freeze over his almost-tied tie and he takes a few seconds to really look at himself, something he hasn't dared to do for the past three days. His sister was right: he looks like hell. What can you possibly expect? Hair and makeup would have had a hard time with him if he'd had to do the show that night, he realizes with a sad smile. He expertly finishes tying his tie and reaches into the bag at the end of the bed to grab his cufflinks; why Mackenzie picked a more formal suit for him to wear to the funeral is still a wonder. He remembers waking up the next morning to find himself alone on the couch. During the night, he had briefly woken up to find his head pillowed on Mackenzie's legs while she slept sitting up in the couch, her legs crossed at the ankles with her feet on the coffee table, her hand carefully placed over his chest. It took his mind a couple of minutes to clear out of its foggy sleepy state before he swung his legs over the edge of the couch and his socked feet touched the cold floor of his apartment. His eyes looked around the sunlit room and, when he found Mackenzie's purse still on his coffee table, he released the breath he didn't even know he had been holding. He could hear faint noises coming from his kitchen, he assumed it was Mackenzie trying to stealthily prepare breakfast and completely failing at keeping it quiet. They ate breakfast in silence, watching ACN's morning news on the TV in his kitchen. Once they were done, Mac urged him to change or he would lose his flight. He looked at her, dumbfounded, while she explained to him that she had booked him a flight and a room and had rented a car for him, as well as packing his suitcase. He didn't know what to say, a very wide range of emotions and feelings overpowered him so he stood there, his mouth hanging half open, while she simply sweetly smiled at him, bitting her lower lip in that adorable way she always did when she was nervous. There weren't enough words for him to tell her how grateful he was, anything he could say would be insufficient, so he gently took one of her hands with his and pulled her into his arms, whispering a soft _thank you_ into her hair before kissing the side of her head.

She had stolen his car keys and had insisted on driving him to the airport. He had told her that he'd like to make it alive but his joke had fallen flat on her ears; she had just looked at him with her _Don't fuck with me, Billy_ look and had taken the keys from his hand before walking to the elevator. Thankfully, the trip had been uneventful and he had arrived in one piece. He can't say the same about the drive to the church. His brother-in-law is a terrible driver; he knows that, everybody knows that, but when he so kindly had offered to drive them, wanting to feel useful somehow, nobody had the heart to tell him no. When the car stops at the parking lot and he steps out of the vehicle, for a second, he wants to thank God, out loud, that nobody has died on the way.

His hometown is small, not a lot of people live there, everybody knows everybody; so, when they get there, the small church is already filled with neighbors wanting to say their goodbyes and a few nosy ones that want to see News Night's Will McAvoy, the TV star. He shakes hands with everybody that approaches him and politely accepts their condolences with a little nod or a quick thank you. When a few minutes later the priest tells him it's time to begin, he gathers his brother and his two oldest nephews and they make their way outside and to the waiting car.

He's been to more funerals than he cares to admit. It's the first thing that pops into his mind while he pretends to listen to the priest: _he's been to more funerals than he cares to admit_. Why he has thought about this, he doesn't know. At his siblings request, he stands with them while his youngest sister reads the eulogy he has written. Sitting on the last pew, he sees Charlie and Sloan. He didn't know they were coming so it's a pleasant surprise. Charlie and Sloan are there, he wonders if Mackenzie has come too. For a moment, he thinks his mind is tricking him, a feeling he's more than used to. This isn't Northwestern, she is not holding signs for him from the audience. This time, she's standing half-hidden behind a column at the back of the church, leaning against the tall pillar with her arms crossed in front of her. He isn't sure if she wants so be seen or not but, today, he definitely sees her and the sudden change in her poise tells him she's aware of it. His thoughts wander, he remembers he didn't ask her if his car managed to get back in its parking spot without a scratch, not that he really cares. Well, he cares a little but it's something he'd be willing to forgive Mackenzie for. Forgive, the key word in all that fucking mess. Forgive. Forgiveness. He knows she has more than paid her due and the recent events are beginning to change his mind. He asks himself why the hell she's hiding instead of sitting with Charlie and Sloan. She looks great, though, all dressed in black: black dress, black heels, black scarf, black coat carefully hanging on her arms. She has always looked great in black, giving the impression of being a tough and mysterious woman. He knows she's tough, and mysterious when she wants to be, but one of the things he mostly loves about her is her softer side, the one he hasn't really seen in years but that made an appearance last Friday night when he needed it (even if he hadn't known at that time). It's his brother's not-too-gentle elbow on the ribs that makes him return to the reality before him; his sister has finished the eulogy and is on her way to the front pew, followed by his other sister. He'll have to thank his brother later for waiting for him and preventing him from making a fool of himself, standing all alone lost in thought.

The service is over and the only thing he wants is to find Mackenzie. He looks around but he isn't able to find her. He politely excuses himself from the crowd around him and walks towards Charlie and Sloan. He gladly accepts Charlie's pat in the back and Sloan's crushing hug and kiss on the cheek and thanks them for coming all the way to Nebraska to be with him. He doesn't ask about Mackenzie; he doesn't have to, the look on his eyes is enough for Sloan to know what he's thinking about. She tells him Mackenzie is waiting outside because she thinks she has been declared persona non grata in the McAvoy family and doesn't want to upset anyone on a day like this. _Nonsense_, he thinks. Sloan gives him an encouraging smile and gently squeezes his arm. He thanks them again before stepping out of the church. It's raining and he sees a few people under their umbrellas. His eyes look for her and it only takes him a few seconds to find her, sharing an umbrella with his brother and with a lit cigarette between her fingers. From his place on top of the stairs, he watches them exchange a few words and smiles between drags of their cigarettes. His brother has always liked Mackenzie, not like her sisters that have always thought she isn't good enough for him. He doesn't say anything, for now he's happy to look at her. Is it wrong that he finds her even sexier with a cigarette in her hand? He'll have to ask her when she's started to smoke again.

It doesn't take long for her to notice him, standing there, looking at her. His brother sees him too and, after they both stub their cigarettes, he politely accompanies her to where he's standing. His brother closes his umbrella and gives Mackenzie a peck on the cheek before going back inside. Their eyes meet, up close, for the first time, and he isn't sure what to do. She looks uncertain and a bit uncomfortable, her lower lip clasped between her teeth, so when a soft "Hey you" escapes her almost closed mouth, the only thing he can do is gather her between his arms and pull her body as close to his as possible. For a few minutes, he doesn't care about what's happening around them; he misses the glare his sisters send Mackenzie when they walk past them, he misses the smile in his brother's face, the knowing look shared between Charlie and Sloan. He only cares about the woman in his arms, his most trusted partner, his rock, the one who really understands him. He has to reluctantly let go when his nephew comes to tell him it's time to go to the cemetery. He asks her if she'll go with him. Mackenzie agrees with a nod before telling him she'll ride with Charlie and Sloan in their rental car.

They step out of the cars and walk to the burial site where the coffin is ready to be lowered into the ground; despite his objections, his father is going to be buried next to his mother. His siblings, next to their significant others and the rest of his family, are waiting for him; Charlie, Sloan and Mackenzie are standing in the last row. Determined, he gently grabs Mackenzie's hand and makes her go with him to the front row. He doesn't utter a word, he just puts his arm over her shoulders and pulls her to his side. He doesn't care about the astonished glares everyone's sending him, he needs her by his side. He kisses her hair while she puts her arm around his waist, under his suit jacket, softly caressing his side over his shirt. Her head drops to his shoulder and he feels her sigh. Together, they listen to the priest's final words while the coffin disappears before their eyes. If it wasn't for her, he would have started crying a few minutes ago. He doesn't want to show any emotion in front of his family: he's the oldest sibling, the tough one, the one that always took care of them. He needs to be strong one last time. Mackenzie understands, and her presence by his side is what's preventing him from breaking down; he'll have time for that later, in his room, where nobody can see him.

When everything is finally over, and with Mackenzie still pressed to his side, he asks Charlie and Sloan to go back with them to the house, promptly assuming that Mackenzie will go back with him. He knows he doesn't have to ask, she'll do whatever he needs, and he's glad that the unspoken agreement means he doesn't need to speak more than what's strictly necessary. After a quick word with his siblings, he rides with them back to his childhood home.

He isn't the only one who's noticed the glares his sisters keep sending Mackenzie; she doesn't mind, she's there to support Will with whatever he needs, but he makes sure she's never left alone for too long, making it nearly impossible for his sisters to corner her. Most of the time, Sloan is the one glued to her side but, at certain moments, he sees her in deep conversation with Charlie or sharing a story with his brother. He tries to talk to her as often a he's able to without being rude to the rest of the guests, always making sure she's alright and keeping her glass of wine full. With a smile, she urges him to mingle and gently tells him she's old enough to take care of herself; she knows what he's doing, and she appreciates it, but he shouldn't be worrying about her. She whispers these words to him and softly kisses his cheek before returning to her conversation with Sloan.

A couple of hours later, he finds himself sitting on the porch steps again, needing a few minutes alone to gather his thoughts. He's still sticking to Diet Coke, saving his right to drink himself stupid for later that night, once everything is really over and he can allow himself to break down. A hand on his shoulder startles him and, before he has time to turn around and see who it is, Mackenzie sits down next to him. She hasn't put her coat on and she's starting to shiver so he quickly takes off his suit jacket and puts it around her shoulders. He reaches for the inside pocket of his jacket and takes out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter, offering one to Mackenzie before grabbing his own; he lights hers first. Her head drops on his shoulder and she tells him that Charlie, Sloan and herself can't stay much longer or they'll miss their flight back to New York. He surprises both of them when he asks her to stay. Mackenzie hesitates, she didn't bring a bag and doesn't have a room to stay; he playfully replies that he has a Black Amex and isn't afraid to use it. It only takes her a couple of seconds to agree; he wouldn't have asked if he didn't really want her to stay. She stubs her cigarette and walks back inside to tell Charlie and Sloan to go on without her. It doesn't surprise them. Charlie simply nods but Sloan asks her if she's sure. Mac hugs her, and thanks her for her concern, but assures her that she'll be alright.

One by one, the guests leave until only John's children and their families remain at the house. Will spends quality time with his youngest nephews and nieces, playing his old guitar while the three kids listen enthusiastically; Mackenzie, meanwhile, begins to tidy up the kitchen with the help of Will's sister-in-law. She hears an angry voice behind her, asking her what is she still doing there, so Mackenzie slowly turns around, drying her hands with a dishtowel, and calmly faces Will's oldest sister. It doesn't take long for Will to appear in the doorway, someone must have alerted him. Mackenzie discreetly signals him to stop and to not intervene while she explains to his sister that she'll stay as long as Will wants, not a minute more or less than that. She tells her that she doesn't want to cause any inconvenience and that she'll gladly stay out of their way if that's what she wants, but she won't leave until Will does. Will lets her talk, knowing that Mackenzie is more than capable of managing his sister, but he stays in his place by the kitchen door just in case. His sister, defeated, turns around to leave but halts when she sees him standing there. Emotions have been flying high all day so he doesn't mind when she angrily tells him that she can't understand what he's doing before storming out of the kitchen. He doesn't ask Mackenzie if she's alright and she just smiles at him, knowing what he isn't asking by the look on his eyes. When Will asks her if she's ready to leave, she squeezes his hand and goes with him to gather their coats.

The ride to the hotel is spent in silence, Will driving and Mackenzie looking out the window. He parks the car and, hand in hand, they walk into the lobby. Will already has the best room of the place so he doesn't need to ask for a bigger one; he'll let Mackenzie have the bed and he'll take the couch. The first thing he does when they step into the room is offer her a change of clothes. He loosens his tie while she rummages through his bag to grab a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and a pair of socks. While she changes inside the bathroom, he quickly discards his suit and puts on his pajama pants and an old t-shirt. When Mackenzie returns to the living area, he has already turned the thermostat up a few degrees and has called to order them some dinner and a bottle of wine. It isn't until she's enjoying a large piece of chocolate cake as dessert that he thanks her again for all she has done for him these past few days. When it's time to go to bed, Will insists that Mackenzie takes the bed, refusing to listen to her arguments about why she should take the couch. Finally, after a couple of minutes of arguing, she accepts that he isn't going to change his mind and thanks him. She kisses his cheek and tells him goodnight before retiring to the bedroom.

The clock reads 3:24 am when a noise coming from the living area wakes her up. With her eyes half closed, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands up. Despite the blanket covering his still form, Will is shivering on the couch. Mackenzie kneels in front of him and carefully tries to wake him up. It takes her a couple of tries but she finally manages to do it. His sight is unfocused, she can tell he's confused, but a few seconds later he remembers where he is and asks her what's wrong. Mackenzie doesn't answer, she simply stands up and extends her hand to him. Will takes it without thinking and follows her to the bedroom. He quickly understands what she's trying to do so he disentangles his fingers from hers and climbs into the bed, under the covers. He looks up and sees her biting her lip, unsure of what to do even if this was her idea in the first place. Will simply turns down the covers on her side and invites her to climb next to him. She does but stays as far away as she's able to, trying very consciously to not touch him. He turns to his side and scoops her closer, resting his head on her shoulder and putting his arm over her waist.

"I love you." He mutters against her neck.

Instead of freaking out, or squealing like a little girl, she kisses the side of his head and relaxes next to him. "I love you too." She tells him, her voice trembling with all the emotions and thoughts running through her mind.

It's weird, in a way, that it has taken the death of his father to be able to say out loud what he has known for months: he still loves her, he's still in love with her. He has forgiven her and, without his father there, he has run out of excuses to keep that to himself. He doesn't need to tell her, his actions have more than already told her that and, after everything he has done since she came back, she's past the point of needing his forgiveness.

When they wake up, he'll do the thing he's been dying to do for the past few months: he'll kiss her.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


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